


help me sing it

by Exemplery_Prime



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: A Lot of People - Freeform, Aftercare, BDSM, Dom/sub, Multi, Polyamory, Roleplay, Spanking, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, anyway geez, i cannot believe how long i had to scroll down to find the drift/rodimus/megatron tag, i realize now that i have a big problem with transformers + spanking but what the hell, y'all ship drift with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 19:45:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16070012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exemplery_Prime/pseuds/Exemplery_Prime
Summary: I have not seen any Drift/Rodimus/Megatron fics out there and I was Severely DisappointedSo here, enjoy robot spanking because I definitely have a problem with that





	help me sing it

Drift opened the door to Rodimus’ hab suite and was only mildly surprised by the sight that greeted him when he walked in. 

“Hello, Drift,” Megatron said calmly, not looking up from where he had Rodimus positioned over his knee, aft up.  “Are you here to pick up the incense?”

“Yeah,” Drift said, smirking a little at how Rodimus wiggled uncomfortably at the sound of his best friend’s voice.  He imagined the humiliation that must be going through Roddy’s tanks, being caught in a compromising position like this.

“Don’t mind him,” Megatron said, and smacked Roddy’s aft slightly.  Rodimus whined a little. “He’s learning a lesson. Please, go and find your incense.”

Drift nodded, and as he walked into the next room, he heard the sounds of Rodimus’ spanking getting on in earnest.  Hard, rhythmic  _ clangs  _ that picked up speed as they went on filled the room.  Rodimus’ whimpers and eventual cries echoed the strikes.  

Picking up his incense, Drift sauntered back in to the main room, back to where Megatron was still spanking Rodimus, and crouched down to get a better view of Roddy’s face.  The captain had lost any semblance of self-control by now and was jerking and crying after each strike, gasping little breaths of  _ please, please.   _

Drift smirked again, standing up.  “Have fun with that, Roddy,” he said, maybe a little too cruelly, but that was the part Megatron had asked him to play, and by  _ Primus  _ he was going to go all into it.  “Can’t say I envy you right now.”

. . . That was a lie, he kind of  _ did,  _ staring at Megatron’s hands as they smacked and caressed at Rodimus’ sensitive plating.  Drift was only glad for the second part of their roleplay, which, to be honest, he was hoping would come sooner than later.

“Please,” Rodimus sobbed, struggling on Megatron’s lap.  “I--  _ please--” _

Drift knew from experience that Roddy wasn’t begging for an end to the spanking, he was begging for Megatron to finish him off, bring him to overload.  He chuckled.

Rodimus shot him a glare that Drift would have been horrified to be on the receiving end of anytime else.  Waving off the angry look, Drift continued laughing a little, unmoved by the fact that Roddy was losing all sense of dignity, crying and wailing as Megatron’s unyielding hand struck his aft again and again, mercilessly.

And then he stopped.

Rodimus whined in desperation, but Megatron was already forcing him to stand.

“Go to the corner and stay there for a while,” the co-captain rumbled, “think about what you did and I  _ may  _ help you overload tonight.”

Drift waved his hand teasingly as Rodimus retreated to the corner, humiliation written in every line of his frame, hands darting down to rub at his aft.

“Bye, Roddy,” Drift cooed, and turned to go.

“Drift.  Stop.”

Drift froze, and though every cable in his body was telegraphing  _ worry, confusion,  _ he felt a burst of excitement at the rumble of that deep, commanding voice and the promise of what he was going to get.  

“What?” he asked suspiciously, turning back around.

“You behaved disrespectfully to Rodimus, and distracted him from his punishment,” Megatron said coldly.  “You require one as well. Come here.”

“What?!” Drift exclaimed, backing away.

“Come  _ here.   _ Bend over.”

Drift felt himself pulled toward Megatron by that inexorable voice, and nearly without thinking, he unhooked his Greatsword and laid it to the side.

“Are you--  _ really?”  _ he asked plaintively, rubbing his aft slightly in anticipation of what he’d seen Megatron do to Rodimus’.

Crimson optics met his, without an ounce of pity.  “Bend over, Drift. I won’t tell you again.”

Drift hesitated for just a second more, and Megatron lost patience.  He grabbed Drift’s wrist, yanked him forward, and bent him over Megatron’s knee as Roddy had been.  Drift gasped and instinctively struggled, conscious of Rodimus’ eyes on him and furiously determined not to look and see what expression was on his friend’s face.  Megatron placed one hand on the small of his back, nearly spanning his waist, and held him still.

“M-Megatron,  _ please,”  _ Drift said, shifting.

A hand came down on his aft, low, near his thighs.  It was so sudden that Drift yelped, scrabbling at Megatron’s leg.

Megatron didn’t give him a moment to recover, following it up with successive smacks against the more rounded parts of his aft plating, and Drift hitched his vents as the surprise turned to pain, a burning sensation following a sharp one.  He moaned, clenching at Megatron’s leg as the spanking continued, finally unable to hold in little cries of pain.

_ “Please!”  _ he cried, and sobbed as Megatron shoved him back down again and slapped his aft harder.  He flailed wildly for a moment, legs jerking against Megatron’s knee, only to be firmly held still and forced to take what Megatron gave him.

“Rodimus,” Megatron said, “come here.”

Drift glanced up, eyes blurring, as Megatron’s hand ceased its punishment and lay on his aft, carefully stroking.  It couldn’t be over yet?

Rodimus stumbled over from his corner, and Drift caught a glance of his closed panels, dripping with lubricant from the seams.  His face was screwed up in an effort to keep them shut that Drift would probably have found adorable if he weren’t so focused on the throbbing ache behind his own panels and his stinging aft plating.

“Watch, Rodimus,” Megatron said.  “Keep from overloading until I’m finished with Drift’s punishment.  Am I understood?”

“Hnng,” Rodimus said miserably, and then as Megatron looked at him, hurriedly, “Yes, understood.”

_ “Agh!”  _ Drift yelped as Megatron landed a full-palmed strike to the middle of his aft, right over his panel.  He lost any composure he might have held onto after that, collapsing and sobbing out his pain and confused arousal as the co-captain relentlessly spanked him.  The blows grew harder, more carefully placed, and Drift felt his own lubricant begin to drip down his thighs as Megatron struck low on his aft.

“Open your panel,” Megatron growled.

Drift moaned and let it slide open, feeling a gush of fluid escape as he bared his valve and let his spike pressurize.  The second item bobbed against Megatron’s knee, and Drift jerked his hips in little aborted thrusts before Megatron pressed down on his waist, telling him to be still.

And then-- in a sharp movement that was both agonizing and wreathed in no small amount of relief-- Megatron slapped Drift’s valve, his hand coming down on both the slick folds and the back of Drift’s spike.  Drift screamed, locked up, and overloaded, his valve cycling down viciously on nothing and his spike jetting transfluid against Megatron’s thigh.

Megatron stroked his back for a moment, breaking character, before shoving Drift off his lap and onto the floor.

“Rodimus,” he snarled, and Drift looked up blearily-- he’d nearly forgotten about the captain, who was standing there, hands pressed tight to his panels and a strained expression on his face.  “Come.”

Rodimus took a step forward, and apparently it was not fast enough for Megatron-- he stood up from his seat, grabbed Rodimus and walked him roughly backward to the other side of the room.  Roddy hit the wall, moaned, tried to wrap his legs around Megatron’s waist. Megatron lifted him up so that he was pinned, snapped, “Open your panels,” and-- as soon as he was lined up-- began ramming into him, fragging him hard against the wall.

Drift sat up, his hand wrapping around his spike, which had already begun to pressurize again.  Groaning, he rested his head back against the couch and began pulling at the shaft, fast, in time with Megatron’s thrusts.

Rodimus’ head banged back against the wall, mouth open in a hard “o”, gasping and whimpering in pleasure.  “Ahh,  _ frag,  _ Megatron, yes, yes, c’mon, yeah--”

Megatron wrapped a hand around Roddy’s throat, the other hand firmly underneath his aft, and went faster.  Drift moaned and squeezed the base of his spike, listening to Rodimus’ pleading, and buried two digits into his aching valve.

_ “Harder!” _ Roddy cried, and Megatron and Drift both snarled.  Rodimus was thrown back against the wall, his spoiler crushed tight against it, as Megatron braced his feet against the floor and  _ roared  _ his engine.  Drift moaned, thrown back by the sheer power of the sound, wanting everything-- wanting to frag Roddy until he screamed, wanting Megatron to spike him into recharge.  He fumbled and palmed helplessly at his spike, other hand still buried deep in the pulsing heat of his valve.

“Megs, Megatron,  _ Megatron,”  _ Rodimus shrieked, throwing his head back.  “I’m close-- oh,  _ Primus,  _ harder--”

Drift found his anterior node, pressed hard against it, and mustered enough energy to squeeze at his spike and thumb the tip.  He clenched his dentae and threw his head back and choked out a strangled cry as he overloaded again. Faintly, he heard Rodimus’ much-less-stifled cry as he came as well, nearly at the same time as Drift.

Drift came down from his second overload of the night, blissed-out and tired and messy.  Before he could realize what he looked and felt like, Megatron was there, picking him up in one arm-- Roddy in the other-- and carrying them both off to their washracks.

 

“So,” Rodimus said brightly, lifting an arm to let Megatron scrub gently at the side of his waist, “Drift may have had two overloads, but I waited the longest for mine, so it counts as two.”

“I waited just as long as you,” Megatron rumbled.

“Actually, longer,” Drift pointed out.  “You finished  _ after  _ him, right?”

“Yes, after,” Megatron said, amused.  “So, do I win?”

“Win what?”  Rodimus playfully sprayed the grey mech in the face.  “My eternal respect?”

“That would be nice,” Megatron sighed, and lifted Drift bodily out of the oil bath.  “Alright, my turn in there.”

Drift laughed as he was set down and cuddled up against Roddy-- the captain was hogging all the hot spray, and he wasn’t the only high-functioning speedster in this trine.  “Maybe you get to bottom next time, Megatron.”

“Yeah!” Rodimus’ eyes sparkled with possibilities.  “Maybe we can--”

“Slow down, you two,” Megatron grumbled from his seat inside the bath.  “Didn’t we just finish an  _ extensively complicated  _ roleplay that you’ve been pestering me about for weeks?”

“You were really good, Megs,” Roddy said immediately.  “My aft hurts.”

“Spare me the theatrics.”

“No,  _ really.   _ I think we need to go lie down and cuddle.  In the berth.” Roddy’s optics twinkled mischievously.  “Like, right now.”

Megatron glared at him.  Drift raised his optic ridges hopefully, knowing the two of them made a pair Megatron could rarely resist.

“Please?” he added, and they had won.

“Come on,” Megatron grumbled good-naturedly, and pulled himself up from the bath.  Drift barely had time to smile appreciatively at the sight of oil dripping from Megatron’s frame before the mech was picking him up, he and Roddy in one sweep of his arm.  Rodimus squealed, grabbed for purchase on Megatron’s shoulder as he was thrown over it, and Drift laughed again.

“You two will be the death of me,” Megatron said, giving Roddy’s spoiler a squeeze. “Drift,  _ stop,”  _ he added helplessly as Drift reached down to pat at his aft.  

“Get me to the berth faster, then, old man,” Drift said, wiggling in Megatron’s arms.

Megatron chuckled and dumped them both down on the bed, climbing in carefully over them.  He grabbed Drift and cuddled him to his chest, and Rodimus sprawled out on top of both of them.

“It really did go well,” Drift said contemplatively.  “Can’t believe that you didn’t think you’d be good in that role, Megatron.”

Megatron huffed.

“You were great,” Rodimus insisted.  “Honestly, Megs. Look at Drift’s aft if you don’t believe me.”

_ “Hey,”  _ Drift said.

“You scuff easy, dude!” 

“No!”  Drift said.  

There was a ping on his HUD.  Confused, he opened the message, and found an image file from Megatron-- a high resolution picture of his own aft from Megatron’s perspective.  It was, indeed, very scuffed up.

“Shut up,” he said petulantly, and pouted.

Megatron laughed and held him closer, and Drift sighed and snuggled in, wrapping a leg around Roddy to make sure he was still there-- and everything was quiet, if only for a while.

  
  



End file.
